


boots

by WinnietheShit



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Fluff, I mean come on, Mr. Gold with a kitten, SO FLUFFY, SO MUCH FLUFF, What Was I Thinking, and also pretty AU, it's about as AU as it can get, seriously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-31
Updated: 2012-10-29
Packaged: 2017-11-13 05:56:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 13,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/500234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinnietheShit/pseuds/WinnietheShit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mr. Gold has never considered himself to be a kind man.  He can be generous when it suits him, yes, but kindness has never exactly been his forte.  So when he’s walking home from work one evening, admiring the sharp contrast of the blushing clouds against the gloomy, blue-grey backdrop of the twilight, and he hears the petrified mewl of a kitten that cannot possibly be larger than his hand - well, when he hears that, his first thought is hardly to rescue the poor thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In Which the Cat is Rescued

Mr. Gold has never considered himself to be a kind man. He can be generous when it suits him, yes, but kindness has never exactly been his forte. So when he’s walking home from work one evening, admiring the sharp contrast of the blushing clouds against the gloomy, blue-grey backdrop of the twilight, and he hears the petrified mewl of a kitten that cannot possibly be larger than his hand - well, when he hears that, his first thought is hardly to rescue the poor thing.

He does, however, look around for the source of the sound. The kitten is, in accordance with his earlier assumption, tiny. It is also orange, and blue-eyed, and trembling. A little something within him wants to cuddle it to his chest and murmur tender things against its fur.

The darker side of him would very much like to string it up by its paws and wait to see how long it takes for the poor thing to stop mewling.

And while the softer side of him doesn’t exactly take over, seeing as he has yet to clutch the poor thing to himself and rub his nose against the little brute’s belly, he does stop for a moment and stare to assess the situation.

Yes, the little beast has got itself into quite a pickle.

The tree is bare of any climbable branches until at least ten feet up, and Gold is not nearly tall enough to reach the lowest hanging branch. Ahem, that is to say, if he were to be the sort of man to even try to rescue a kitten. Which he is most definitely not.

“How in seven hells did you get up there anyway?” Gold is surprised to find himself saying. Talking to cats is not an odd thing for him to do. Good old Chesh, for example, did offer the most enticing riddles. Talking to cats that cannot talk back, however, does worry him a bit.

The pathetic thing mewls again, and Gold’s face twists into an expression of mingled amusement and pity. It’s too human for him, however, and he quickly sweeps it aside. It wouldn’t do for one of the townsfolk to see him fawning over a kitten, of all things.

He turns and continues on his way, or he starts to at least, but then the kitten mewls again, and Gold stops short, grinds his teeth, tells himself Don’t be stupid, don’t be stupid, it’s just a cat, don’t be stupid, and turns on his heel.

“I hope you’re not so pea-brained that you won’t appreciate what I’m about to do for you,” he growls, and rests his cane against the tree. Gold hates himself for what he’s about to do next.

His leg hates him even more.

He retreats several feet, crouches a bit, mentally prepares himself, curses under his breath, realizes his mental preparation has done nothing in the way of readying him for the task he’s about to accomplish, closes his eyes, and curses again. Then he starts running.

His leg positively screams in agony, but he does his best to ignore it because he’s already started running and to stop would be so pointless and to fail would be such a letdown so he keeps running, and just before he passes under the lowest branch he jumps and pretends he’s a kangaroo, of all the ridiculous things to be doing at a time like this, and his palms smack into the branch with such force that he’s almost tempted to let go, but no, he’s come this far and he’s not stopping now.

The reality of the situation suddenly hits him.

Mr. Gold, the most feared man in town, is hanging onto a tree branch, dangling a few feet above the ground, just so he can rescue a kitten.

He grits his teeth and tightens his hold on the branch. He’s considering letting go when the kitten mewls again and he’s already made a fool of himself and he is most definitely not stopping now. To pull himself, inch by agonizing inch, high enough to clamber onto the branch, takes either decades or mere seconds, depending on who’s telling the story - Gold, or the kitten.

In any case, once he’s uncomfortably straddling the branch, more than a little bit satisfied with himself for having accomplished such a task even with a mostly-useless leg, he chances a glance up at the kitten, who’s looking down at him with those enormous blue eyes, fretfully hooking and unhooking its claws into the bark of the tree. A little part of Gold melts. When he realizes just how many more branches he has to climb to reach the cat, however, that little part of him freezes over once again.

The next few curses he mutters are far too vulgar to acquaint the young masses with.

“Six branches to go,” he hisses, and rises unsteadily to his feet, clinging to the tree trunk for support. “Six branches.”

Climbing the six branches gives him far more trouble than Mr. Gold ever expected he’d go through for a kitten. But he’s come so far already, and though his leg is screaming and his jaw hurts from how hard he’s been grinding his teeth, he refuses to give up now.

The kitten purrs when he reaches it, rubs its little orange head against his leg, and as much as he hates the brute, he passes a hand over the little beast’s back and he almost smiles at the touch of the soft fur against his own calloused palm. Almost.

“All right,” he says with a sigh, hoisting the pitiful creature up onto his shoulder, where it buries its claws into Gold’s rather expensive suit. He tries not to mind, he is rather wealthier than he leads Regina to believe, after all.

It is during his descent of one of the lower branches of the tree that the Sheriff comes across him. Of course. She had to find him clambering down a tree with a terrified mewling kitten attached to his shoulder. She couldn’t have come across him before, of course, when he was merely considering whether or not to rescue the cat. No, no. Sheriff Swan has to find him at his most indisposed.

A rather awkward pause hangs in the air between them for a moment.

“Good evening, Sheriff.”

“Um...” says Emma.

Gold detaches the kitten from his suit and holds it out to the Sheriff. “If you wouldn’t mind...” He lets the question hang in the air.

“Oh, um - oh! Of course, right, yeah, sure.” She reaches up and Mr. Gold deposits the mewling beast into her hands almost tenderly. Almost.

“Much obliged.” He clambers down the last bough and dangles precariously for a moment before the Sheriff tactfully turns away to appreciate the kitten and all its feline wiles, and Gold allows himself to drop to the ground with a graceless thud. He hisses at the damage it does to his knee and leans against the tree, grateful for its support.

Another awkward pause somersaults almost gleefully between the pair.

“Well,” says Gold, extending his hands for the kitten. The Sheriff hands the horrid thing over almost regretfully.

“Is this, um, your cat?” Emma asks him, looking like she’s biting back a giggle or two. Gold very seriously considers throwing the cat in her face.

“Not exactly,” he replies, grabbing his cane and standing upright.

“Oh,” says Emma. “Would you - do you want me to take her to the shelter for you, or...?”

Gold looks down at the kitten, who is peering up at him with those enormous blue eyes. It mewls again, and the sound is not so aggravating as it used to be. “No, I don’t think that’ll be necessary, Sheriff Swan.” He grants her a close-lipped smile.

She looks alarmed for a moment, as though she’s afraid he’s planning on skinning the beast alive and grinding its wee little bones to make his bread. He nearly laughs at her shock, but instead settles for another, hopefully disturbing smile.

“Well,” he says at last, trying to ignore how pleasant the kitten’s soft rumbling purrs sound, “I suppose I’ll be on my way, then.”

“Right,” said Emma.

Gold and Emma have respectively limped and walked past one another some few feet when Gold turns around and calls, “Oh Sheriff.”

“Yeah?”

“I’d appreciate if you kept this to yourself, if you catch my meaning.”

The smile she gives him is far too mirthful for Gold’s liking, but he supposes threats will do him little good. After all, she’s the one with the power here, and it wouldn’t do for the whole town to know that Gold is, in fact, a kitten rescuer.

“Of course,” she assures him, and Gold feels anything but assured. He turns around and is hobbling on his way home, the kitten pressing itself deeper into his side in an effort to keep warm, when Emma speaks again. “What are you gonna name her?”

He stops. Thinks it over. Frowns. Turns to Emma with a smirk. “I’ll have to get back to you on that.”


	2. In Which Gold Makes a Deal

Mr. Gold has been having a tough time deciding what to name the kitten. He's briefly considered the obvious, that is to say, "Snoer Lefablacious Tromskultin", but that seems a bit too obvious, and Gold is nothing if not obscure.

He's taken to calling the kitten "Cat" instead. He'd call it Kitten, but it will soon grow out of that, as things tend to do.

At first he tries to ignore the kitten, simply let it roam around his house as it pleases, only acknowledging its presence with the small saucer of milk he leaves out every day and every night, but when the little brute vomits on his Persian carpet, well, he decides it's time to go buy some real cat food, if only to spare the furniture.

The looks given him while in line at the pet store, his basket filled to the brim with tins of wet food, are positively infuriating. As such, when the clerk says, "I didn't know you had a cat," Gold frowns, twists his features into a brilliant imitation of confusion, tilts his head to the side, and responds, "I don't."

The clerk doesn't ask him to clarify.

When he arrives home, the kitten is nearly hemorrhaging with excitement to see him. Gold would be lying if he said he wasn't a bit pleased by the kitten's antics, rolling onto her back to expose her wee rounded little belly and flicking her tail back and forth as she waits for him to scratch behind her ears.

"It's nice to see you too, Cat," says Gold drily, and he sets about opening a tin of kitten food. The creature's mewls are nearly deafening. "All right, all right, shut up," he mutters, throwing away the empty tin and placing the saucer of wet food onto the ground, ignoring the pain it causes his knee to bend down.

The beast positively lunges for the food, devouring the meal at such a high speed that Gold is almost worried the idiot will choke. He quickly casts aside that worry, however, when he realizes the cat is eating so fast she hardly stops to breathe. He bends over again, wincing, and scoops the kitten into the air. It continues to bite at the empty space for a few moments, perhaps unaware that the food is no longer sitting in front of it. She lets out a curious mewl.

"All right," says Gold, bringing the kitten to eye level, "As hungry as you may be, I'm not having you throwing up all over my carpets again. Slow it down a bit, and I might just keep you around. Understand?" He feels like an idiot, but the kitten blinks so charmingly that he overcomes his embarrassment and smiles, touching the tip of his nose to the little brute's own. "Very well," he whispers. "The deal is struck."


	3. In Which Gold Makes a Purchase

The time has come for Gold to buy his cat - ahem, the cat - a scratching post. The furniture has put up with the little monster's terrorism long enough, and Gold's cane is perhaps the only thing he owns that hasn't been mutilated by the beast - oh, no, wait, he stands corrected. The bottom of his cane is indeed riddled with scratches and bite marks.

Rather than being annoyed, however, Gold finds himself amused by the kitten's audacity.

He's not the only one who notices the damage, however.

"Do you have... termites, Mr. Gold?" Henry asks him one afternoon as he's locking up the shop.

"I beg your pardon, Henry?"

"Your cane. It's got holes at the bottom."

He resists the urge to smile. "So it has," he says, acting as though this is news to him. "It must be termites. Thank you, Henry."

"No problem!" the boy beams, flashing him a thumbs up and running in the opposite direction. "G'bye Mr. Gold!"

"Good bye, lad." He starts to limp home, taking a detour that will take him past the pet shop on the way. Once inside, he is almost overwhelmed by the myriad of scratching posts offered him. He almost considers turning himself into a cat, if only to be able to reside within some of these outlandish structures. Towers and caves and ropes and bridges - does a cat really need all these? But he can't help himself, he's drawn to the most eldritch, bizarre construction of them all - a three foot high monstrosity with a plethora of tunnels and platforms and swings, feathers and bells, niches and rope ladders and towers - Gold fancies himself in love.

The salesclerk gives him an odd look as he's purchasing the "Kitty Condo", and Gold remembers that he's told the clerk that he doesn't own a cat. He lets himself smile, watches the cashier's eyes widen.

"Um, have a um, good day, um, Mr. Gold."

"Oh, I will," he assures the cashier as he's lugging the carpet-covered apparatus out of the store. "Believe me, I will."


	4. In Which Gold Has a Visitor

Cat loves her new lodgings, rubs her back against base of each tower, purring loudly. That doesn't stop her from sleeping at the foot of Gold's bed every night, no matter how firmly he places her on the top platform each night before he goes to bed. At the very least, however, she stops scratching his furniture and diverts her sharp-clawed attention to the glorified scratching post and all its bells and feathers.

The third day he's had the Kitty Condo (he's not sure he'll ever get tired of that name), the doorbell rings. Gold looks up from where he's been trailing a string for Cat to chase, when he should have been doing his taxes, and notices there's no silhouette visible through the colored glass window of his front door.

A package, perhaps? But I haven't ordered anything, he reminds himself as he hobbles, sans cane, to the door. And anyway, anything he does order gets sent to the shop. Gold frowns as he pulls the chain from its slot. He opens the door and peers out onto the street. There's no one - ah.

He glances down. Henry beams back up.

"Hi Mr. Gold!"

"Henry?"

"Yup," the boy responds, far too cheerful for the occasion. Sometimes Gold can't help but wonder if the boy is a bit slow-witted. He speaks to Mr. Gold far more frequently than is healthy for someone who lives with the Mayor.

"What are you doing here, lad?"

The boy lifts a green can and raises his eyebrows as though the image of an insect emblazoned onto the can is supposed to mean something to Gold.

He makes himself smile and leans lightly against the doorframe. "I'm afraid I don't quite understand."

Henry frowns. "It's termite spray. For the termites. You know, 'cos your cane has a bunch of holes in the bottom - oh, you don't have your cane right now." He beams again. "Is your leg better? Is that why you don't have your cane right now?"

"No, Henry, I'm afraid I just left it by my desk - "

"How'd you hurt your leg anyway? I've been wondering for a while," and then to himself he mutters, "Maybe if I knew about your leg I'd be able to figure out..."

"I beg your pardon - ?"

He is interrupted yet again, but not, this time, by Henry. Cat lets out an ear-splitting yowl, apparently just noticing Gold's absence. She frolics to the door and rubs her head against his leg and mewls again. Henry's jaw drops.

"You have a kitten?"

Well, at the very least Gold now knows Emma didn't tell anyone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> er wow sorry that took so long  
> heh  
> but for that you get TWO chapters for waiting so patiently!


	5. In Which Henry Tries to Name Cat

Mr. Gold has somehow found himself with Henry Mills sitting in his living room. The can of termite spray has long since been set aside for Cat, who is thoroughly enjoying her perch upon Henry's lap and the almost timid caresses he grants her. Gold narrows his eyes. Even he doesn't treat the little monster so carefully.

Henry, noticing Gold's confusion, ducks his head and offers by way of explanation, "The Mayor won't let me have any pets."

"Ah."

"What'd you name her?"

How on Earth does everyone know this cat is a girl? It took Gold near fifteen minutes of holding her up Simba-style to come to the conclusion that the cat did, indeed, lack the necessary genitalia to be classified as male.

"I've taken to calling her Cat for now."

Henry raises his eyebrows. "How come?"

"Well, I suppose I'm waiting to find a name that fits." He leans forward and whispers conspiratorially, "Names have power, you see," and winks, feeling a bit like he did when he was with Bae.

Henry's eyes widen as though Gold has just shared a pivotal piece of information. "Um, right," he says, shaking his head and letting his expression drop to be replaced with another of polite interest. "How about Ginger?"

Gold shakes his head. "Far too common, wouldn't you agree?"

"You're right," the boy agrees, looking so serious that Gold's tempted to laugh. It's naming a cat, for Christ's sake. "How about, um... Chesh? Cheshire? Like the Cheshire Cat, you know? From - "

"Alice in Wonderland, yes, I'm well aware." He's tempted to bring up his own history with Chesh, but he's afraid the boy might actually believe him. It's true, of course, but most people in Storybrooke take Gold's stories as jokes. Henry's far too perceptive. "It's a charming name, I'll grant you that, but it doesn't quite fit, if you catch my meaning." He smiles.

"I totally agree." The boy nods and twirls his index finger around Cat's ear, and the kitten purrs so loudly that Gold can hear it from the other side of the coffee table. "Hmm. How about 'the Marquise de Carabas'?"

Gold can't help it. He laughs aloud. "À la Puss in Boots, you mean?" The boy is certainly creative.

Henry blushes, and Gold feels a little bad. "Yeah, it's kind of dumb." He's about to apologize when the boy's head pops back up, his eyes shining. "Hey! How about Rumpelstiltskin?" He watches Gold intently to wait for his reaction. Oh yes, the boy is certainly perceptive.

"Really?" says Gold, tilting his head to the side. "Why would you suggest that?"

"Well, 'cos we can't figure out her name, and in 'Rumpelstiltskin' - "

"Ah, you see, therein lies the problem. We can't figure out her name." Gold shakes his head. "We could hardly name a girl Rumpelstiltskin, now could we?"

"You're right."

"Well," says Gold, rising unsteadily to his feet. Cat, seeming to read Gold's mind, jumps off of Henry's lap and stretches her fuzzy round body out on the carpet, yawning in a way that almost makes Gold hate her for being so adorable. "It's getting dark, Henry, and as much as I hate to kick you out, the Mayor will certainly be wondering where you are." He makes sure not to refer to Regina as the boy's mother, since he seems to dislike the idea so much.

"You're right," Henry repeats, picking up the termite spray and shouldering his backpack. "Thanks for letting me pet Cat."

"Of course Henry. You're welcome by anytime," Gold assures him as he's unlocking the door.

"Really?" He beams and gently toes Cat back inside as she tries to follow him onto the front stoop. "Thanks, Mr. Gold! I'll let you know if I think of any more good names!"

"Much obliged, Henry. Good evening."

"G'bye!"

Gold shuts the door behind him and looks down at Cat, who is rubbing her side against Gold's cane as though she's unaware that it's made of wood and not flesh. "You're a troublesome little beast, you know that?"

Her answering meow seems to say, Oh indeed. My sole mission in life, in fact, and Gold finds himself unsurprised.


	6. In Which Cat is Aptly Named

"I've been reading up on my mythology," are the first words out of Henry's mouth as he charges through Mr. Gold's front door. He sets his mouth into a soft line, looking perfectly serious. Gold does his best not to betray his mirth. "Especially Egyptian ones."

"Have you now?" says Gold, stepping aside to let Henry in so he can close the door before Cat slips out. The little bugger has been more curious than ever lately about the outside world ever since Henry visited. Gold now has to keep an eye on her every time he opens the door.

"Yes," says Henry, shrugging his backpack off of his shoulders and letting it fall to the floor. He immediately sits in his usual spot, on the left side of the couch adjacent to the window. Gold leans over to set the backpack upright again before he moves to sit across from Henry in his own customary seat. Cat immediately jumps onto the coffee table, all of Gold's attempts to train her otherwise having been in vain, and plops down her fat little rump and, tail twitching, swivels her head back and forth to look between the two of them.

Gold looks away from the kitten, still small enough to hold in the palm of one hand, and directs his attention towards Henry. The boy is positively shaking with anticipation. "Yes, well. You've been looking up Egyptian mythology. Go on."

"Yeah, I went to the library - "

Something inside of Gold twitches.

" - and got a bunch of books on Greek mythology and Roman mythology - which is basically the same thing, isn't that weird? - and Norse mythology, and Egyptian mythology, and I found some really cool names you might like." He paused and swung his legs back and forth, watching Gold expectantly.

It takes a moment for him to realize what's expected of him. "Oh, yes, what might they be?" he enquires, all too happy to participate in this little game, such a welcome reprieve from Regina's usual merciless drilling.

"Okay, the first one I thought you might like was Athena. She was the goddess of wisdom and war planning and she was born from Zeus - that's the big guy up top - she was born from Zeus's head."

Gold raises his eyebrows. "Fascinating." He leans in conspiratorially and shoots Cat a significant glance. "But, truth be told, I don't think Cat fancies the name." Cat seems wholly indifferent to the subject matter, truth be told, but Henry nods, and Gold is glad. Athena's hardly a cat-worthy name, and it'd be doing the goddess a terrible injustice besides, and Gold has had far too much experience with angry goddesses, thank you very much. "What was the next name you found?"

"Well, there was Artemis," Henry admits with a shrug, "But I dunno, it's kind of stuffy." Gold resists the urge to laugh. As if Athena's not a stuffy name?

"Too right. Carry on."

"Diana's the Roman version, only that's too human for a cat, and I always thought it was weird when people gave their cats human names like Roger and Elizabeth and stuff, don't you?"

"I've never been more in agreement."

"And then there was some other names, from Egyptian mythology, like Isis, which I thought would be pretty cool 'cos she's supposed to be Osiris' wife, and the name Isis means 'throne', and Cat's pretty regal, or at least she thinks she is - "

Gold concurs most wholeheartedly.

" - and she's supposed to be accepting of everyone, even sinners and slaves, artists and the down-on-their-luck - well, actually, the book described them as downtrodden..."

"I like it," says Gold, nodding, "But let's hear the other options before we make a final decision. Besides," he adds, looking at Cat, who's stretching out on the coffee table to soak up every inch of sunlight streaming in through the window, "Cat seems a bit apathetic towards the name."

Henry shrugs and smiles. He clearly doesn't mind sharing all of this brand new information, and Gold wonders if the boy really has anyone to talk to besides himself and Emma, who hardly seems to have time for him lately anyway. "Next on the list is Sekhmet. She's a lion-headed goddess, which is pretty cool, and also might be fitting 'cos lions are a type of cat and Cat is a cat, so..."

Gold smiles.

"Anyway," says Henry, blushing, "She's the goddess of healing and she's a warrior goddess."

"A bit contradictory, don't you think, lad?"

"You're right." He grins. "That's why I saved the best name for last."

If Gold were the type to inch forward in his seat in anticipation, he'd have done so right now. But he's not, so he doesn't. "Well?" he asks after a few moments, during which Henry has distracted himself by skittering his fingers along the top of the coffee table.

"Hmm? Oh, yeah." The boy sits up straight. "Bast." After a brief pause, he adds, "Or, you know, Bastet. That's what the book said that Egyptologists called her. So I guess that's the right name."

"Bast," Gold breathes, trailing a finger along the edge of his cane. "The cat goddess."

"And the sun and moon."

Gold looks down at Cat, who has ceased her idiotic rolling in the sun to stare at him with her enormous blue eyes. Yes, he supposes the name suits her. "Bast," he says, reaching out a hand to stroke the top of Cat's tiny head. He glances up at Henry and smiles. "Perfumed protector, as she used to be called." Yes, fitting indeed. "Thank you, Henry."

The boy's eyes widen. "You like it? You're gonna name her Bast?"

Gold nods.

"Awesome!" He chances a glance at his watch and leaps from his seat with an almost comical yell. "Yikes!" Gold is unaware that people still use the term 'yikes'. "I gotta go, Mr. Gold, I'm supposed to be home for dinner in two minutes!" He shoulders his backpack and grins as he yanks open the door before Gold can even think about offering to drive him. "Bye, Mr. Gold! I'll be by tomorrow to see you and Cat - er, I mean, Bast." He grins wider and is out the door before Gold can even raise his hand to say goodbye.

He does, however, have the clarity of mind to shut the door before Cat can get out.

Er, that is to say, Bast.


	7. In Which Emma is an Unlikely Saviour

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> long one today, folks!

It's Sunday. Gold hobbles out onto the front drive to fetch the newspaper. It's early, and he's tired, which is probably why he forgets to close the door properly. He's too tired to remember that Bast is getting strong enough to slip her paw in the doorway and push it open just wide enough to squeeze her bloated belly through.

He doesn't realize she's escaped until he sees a blur of orange zip past him and dive into the neighbour's hydrangea bush.

Part of him thinks, Well, it's about time she left.

Another, rather more influential part screams, GO GET HER BACK, YOU IDIOT!

Gold draws in a deep breath and sits down on his front steps, watching his neighbour's hydrangea bush intently. The flowers shiver and then Bast comes charging out again. He thinks for a moment she might be running to him - but no, she flies past him and rounds the corner behind his other neighbour's house. Well. That's not good.

What to do, what to do?

It's a good thing Henry shows up some minutes later, otherwise Gold might have wasted precious time sitting on his front stoop, wondering about how best to get Bast back home.

"Hi Mr. Gold," says the boy, his voice tinged with confusion. "Are you okay?"

Gold runs a hand through his hair and smiles grimly. "'Fraid not, lad. I've got a piece of bad news."

The boy's eyes widen. "What happened?"

Gold hesitates. "Bast is, uh..." He clears his throat. "She's not here today, sadly."

"Where is she? Did she escape?"

"No, no, nothing of the sort. I took her to the vet yesterday evening, that's all."

Henry breathes a sigh of relief. "Oh. That's good. Why is she at the vet?"

"A piece of grass caught in her throat, I believe?" he lies smoothly. "Nothing to worry about." He rises to his feet with some difficulty and quirks his mouth down at the boy. "I hate to shoo you away, lad, but I've got some work to tend to and I'm afraid I can't entertain guests today."

"Oh, that's all right," says Henry with a shrug. "I was gonna go to the library today anyway." Gold's stomach twists painfully. Library. Henry doesn't seem to notice the pawnbroker's inner turmoil. "I'll see you later, Mr. Gold." He waves and turns away.

"Goodbye, Henry." Once the boy has rounded the street corner, Gold hobbles as quickly as he can into the house to fetch his keys and jacket. He considers closing the door behind him, but he doesn't have a cat door yet and what if Bast decides to come back in the time he's gone and anyone stupid enough to rob his house is stupid enough to be apprehended in a timely fashion.

It is halfway to the police station that he realizes he could have easily called the Sheriff from his home and spared himself the walk. He grits his teeth and continues on his way. When at last he reaches the station, he pauses a moment before the Sheriff's door to smooth down his hair and adjust his coat. It wouldn't do to appear too flustered over the loss of a kitten, of all things.

"Mr. Gold," says Emma, her eyebrows rising high on her forehead as he entered her office.

"Sheriff Swan." He inclines his head.

"What - ahem, what's wrong?"

"I'm here to enlist your help in the recovery of a certain... feline."

She takes a moment to ponder his words. "I'm sorry, what?" Her face clearly says, It's too early in the morning for this.

"I need your help finding a cat."

"A cat?" she asks him, smiling oddly, "Or your cat?"

"That hardly matters." He sets his mouth into a grim line and narrows his eyes.

"Oh, I beg to differ." Emma leans back in her chair. "I mean, if it's just a cat, we'd have to call the shelter to take her - or him - in. If it's your cat, well, that's another matter entirely."

Gold exhales sharply. "I suppose you could call her my cat if you wish."

She arches her brow as if to say, There we go. Sheriff Swan pulls out a notepad and a pen and asks, "Okay, so what's she look like?"

"Small," he answers immediately, and then holds his hands about a ways apart from each other. "About yea big. Orange. Striped. Bluish-greenish eyes." He tilts his head to the side and ponders. "An abundance of white whiskers."

"Right," says Emma. "Long-haired or short-haired?"

"Short-haired. She's still fuzzy."

Emma chuckles, perhaps amused by the fact that Mr. Gold, of all people, has just said the word fuzzy. "What's her name?"

"Bast."

She arches her brow again. This was getting to be annoying. "O-kay." She sets down the notepad and folds her hands in her lap. "Have you put out fliers yet?"

"No," he responds. As if he'd go about town, stapling paper to telephone poles. "She's only just disappeared."

Emma raises her palms. "What do want me to do?"

"Help me look for her, of course."

She looks as if she's about to snort, And you can't do that yourself? but then her eyes land on his cane and her mouth forms a perfect O of understanding. Sheriff Swan rises to her feet. "Okay," she says and grabs her jacket. "Let's go."

For a moment he's surprised she agreed, Doesn't the Sheriff have anything better to do? but then he realizes he wouldn't have come to her for help if he didn't expect her to. He smiles a thin, ambiguous smile. "Much obliged, Sheriff."

The drive back to his house is blissfully uncomfortable, the awkwardness so palpable that Gold fancies he could pluck it out of the air. Emma tries to make small talk, and his answers are as uninformational as is humanly possible. Gold doesn't think there's any greater joy than to make others feel discomfited.

When they reach his home, Emma stands by patiently as he clambers out of the passenger seat and it is only when he's standing steady on his feet does she ask, "So what exactly happened? As in, how did she escape?"

"I neglected to properly shut the door when retrieving the newspaper and she ran off behind the neighbour's house."

"Hmm." Emma folds her arms and pauses. "Listen, do you want to just - "

"Wait inside while you do all the work?" He chuckles. "Hardly. I hope you won't mind having an old man slow you down, but I'd rather come along." She might find the spot he reburied the dagger. As rare as the possibility might be, interesting things have happened since Emma came to town and he wouldn't be surprised if finding the dagger was one of them. Of course, she might not know exactly what it does, but Henry might, and it's always better to be safe than sorry.

Emma narrows her eyes for a moment but at last she nods. She turns and beckons for him to follow her into the neighbour's backyard. He wonders briefly if they should notify the Keanes that they're about to more or less trespass onto their property, and then he quickly casts the thought aside. It wouldn't do to have the whole town know about his feline dilemma.

The garden in the Keanes' backyard shows clear signs of kitty mayhem. The flowerbeds have been trampled, no doubt by Bast's merciless romping, and there is a corner in the yard that smells suspiciously of waste. And not the kind you buy for your plants.

"Ugh," says Emma, making a face. Gold understands her disgust. Kitten excrement doesn't exactly have the most pleasant of smells, and even his special "Odor-Eliminating" kitty litter doesn't keep the laundry room from smelling like - to put it bluntly - ass every once in a while.

Emma whistles once, quick and sharp, and the two wait to see if the bushes shake or the earth moves or the sky falls, whichever turns out to be Bast's preference. Sadly, none of the above occur and Emma creeps forward to examine the rose bushes. She pulls back a moment later, after sweeping her hand cautiously through the lower branches, puts her hands on her hips and sighs. "Well, I don't think she's here." She looks up at the house. "And honestly, I'd rather not have to explain to your neighbours why I'm creeping around in their backyard. So let's move on." She turns to face Gold. "You know her better than I do. Where does it seem like she'd go?"

He pauses, surprisingly at a loss for words. If he were an animal, Gold would most definitely turn to the forest, which is nearly directly behind the house. But Bast is not Gold. Even as a kitten, she seems the type to stick to the comfortable rather than brave the unknown. At last he says, "It seems... unlikely that she would go into the forest."

Emma nods. "Right. You mind trespassing some more?"

He smirks.

"Uh huh," says Emma slowly. "I'm gonna pretend that didn't have some probably-illegal underlying meaning." She turns away and beckons for him to follow her into the next neighbour's yard. Their search of that area proves as unyielding, information-wise, as the first. The next two backyards offer less, if possible, information as to Bast's whereabouts.

"Hey," Emma says at last, once they've narrowly escaped detection on the Menken property, "Where was it you first found her?"

"The oak by my shop," he replies, leaning heavily on his cane. His leg is killing him, and if it weren't for the fact that Bast really was quite beneficial to keep around (honestly, ever since he took in that poor creature, the insect and rodent population of his property has been diminished greatly) he would have given up long ago. Gold arches his brow at Emma. "You think she might have returned?"

Emma shrugs. "It's worth a shot." She leans out into the street to look at Gold's home half a block down. "Um..." She glances at Gold's cane, her eyes briefly flickering up to meet his before they snap back down. "Let's take the car."

"Whatever you say, Sheriff." His leg breathes a sigh of relief. Or at least it would have if legs were capable of such a thing, which they are, of course, not.

Emma and Gold walk and hobble, respectively, back to the patrol car. The drive to the pawn shop is mercifully brief enough to keep things from becoming more awkward than they already are, but long enough for the feeling to come back into Gold's leg. Sheriff Swan pulls up on the sidewalk beside the tree. Gold looks up at the branches as he clambers out of the passenger seat and - ah, yes, there is that telltale bundle of orange, curled up an ungodly number of branches above them.

Out of the corner of his eye - for he is too focused on Bast to look at the sheriff directly - he sees Emma smile. "Well," she says wrily, and he thinks she's put her hands on her hips, "She's certainly got herself into quite a predicament."

"A bad habit of hers," Gold says with a forced smirk. He's not looking forward to climbing up that tree again, especially not with Sheriff Swan watching. Again.

"Better go get her, huh?" says Emma, and Gold starts forward. He's hardly moved a foot when he notices a blur of red and gold out of the corner of his eye, and he turns to see Emma take a running jump at the lowest-hanging branch. She latches on with ease and doesn't hesitate to swing herself up to wrap her legs around the branch. She hangs upside down for a moment, and tilts her head back to look at Gold. He can only stare as this woman who hates him, she hates him, he knows she hates him, eagerly inconveniences herself to retrieve his cat - ahem, the cat - oh, fuck it. His cat.

"Are you sure - " he starts to say, but Emma is skittering up that tree faster than a spider on its web. She reaches Bast in no time, gently deposits the poor thing onto her shoulder, and, before Bast can even properly latch her claws into the sheriff's leather jacket, clambers back down the tree, tosses - yes, tosses - the kitten into Gold's waiting arms, and drops to the ground with a graceless thud.

"Well," says Emma, tugging her jacket into place. She smiles. "Will that be all, Mr. Gold?"

And he can only stare at this completely exasperating, astounding, maddening, remarkable saviour of a woman.


	8. In Which an Appointment is Made

It is odd to think of what life would be like without Bast, without the sound of her little feet padding against the hardwood floor as she follows him down the hallway, without the way she curls her tail when she rolls onto her back to expose her now not-so-swollen belly, without the way she meows much too loudly when she wants to be let outside and Gold won't let her. He's not going to risk letting that little beast out before she's had her shots, and now that he's thinking about it, he'd better go get that done soon.

Ugh. Fantastic. While neither Emma nor Henry have told anyone - or at least seem to have told anyone - about Bast, Gold is a little more than reluctant to fuel the rumours that he does, in fact, own a cat. Although, come to think of it, it seems rather more like she owns him rather than the other way around. Why else would he drop all of his work just to oblige her pathetic mewling and scratch the base end of her tail, or tie a piece of string to his cane to drag around on the floor for her to chase while he hobbles too and fro?

Yes, Bast is totally and completely in ownership of Mr. Gold, and he refuses to do himself the courtesy of denying it.

Anyway. Back to the shots. He supposes he'd better set up an appointment for himself at the veterinarian. Lovely. Gold sighs and makes his way to the door, but not before tugging the string off of the end of his cane and checking to see that Bast was safely snuggled up in her "Kitty Condo". (Condo. Ha. Kitty Palace, more like.)

He is stopped halfway down the driveway by a dreamy-looking Henry Mills. "Oh!" He stops inches away from Gold. "Hi, Mr. Gold! Sorry. Almost didn't see you."

"A bit distracted there, are we, Henry?"

Henry smiles his crooked smile. "I was just daydreaming."

"What about, may I ask?"

The boy shrugs, but Gold does note a faint blush come into his cheeks. "Oh, you know. Just stuff." Gold considers pressing the matter, but there's no need. "You know, stuff about like how come Rapunzel didn't just climb down the tower herself or Sleeping Beauty's parents didn't tell her about the whole spindle thing so she wouldn't go and touch one, you know, stuff like that."

And Mr. Gold finds himself inexplicably amused. "Quite profound musings for an ten-year-old, if you don't mind me saying. Although," says Gold, tilting his head to the side, "I might be able to help you with the Sleeping Beauty dilemma."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yes. Perhaps Sleeping Beauty's parents were aware that their daughter was insatiably curious and perhaps even a bit of a rule breaker, though it'd be wise not to tell anyone about that part, seeing as princesses must always be perfect ladies," says Gold with a wink.

Henry grins. "I like that!" He gives Gold a strange look before continuing, "So, were you going anywhere?"

"Yes, actually, to the vet."

"Is Bast okay?'

"Perfect. I just need to schedule her for her shots."

"Oh. Want me to come with you?"

Gold pauses, and the smile on Henry's face falls.

"If you don't want me to..."

"No, no, Henry," says Gold, smiling as unwolfishly as he can manage. "I'd be delighted to have your company. D'you mind a bit of a walk?" He gestures to the road with his cane.

Henry smirks in a way reminiscent of his mother. "I'm game if you are."

Gold throws back his head and laughs. "Off we go, then."

The woman behind the desk at the veterinarian's is smiling far too widely for Gold's taste. He wishes he could magick Bast into a tiger and then bring her in for her shots, but he's not quite sure he has enough magic for that, and besides, Regina would never let him hear the end of it. So he grips his cane tighter, gives the young lady his information, and makes an appointment to come back Friday afternoon. Henry, from his spot on one of the hideously upholstered waiting chairs, sits up straighter and asks - far too loudly - "Can I come?"

Gold turns and gives him a brief nod. "If you like," he says in a voice devoid of emotion.

"Cool," says the boy, but Gold thinks he notices Henry's smile falter just a bit.

As he is walking Henry back home, Gold stops Henry at the end of his street and says, "I think you'd better go alone the rest of the way," and Henry nods and turns to continue on his way, but not before screwing up his face and asking, "Mr. Gold? Can I ask you something?"

"Of course, Henry."

"Did I do something wrong?"

Gold feels his eyes widen. He clears his throat and puts on what he hopes is a pleasantly confused smile. "No, Henry. Whatever would give you that idea?"

"It's just..." The boy shuffles his feet. "I dunno, at the vet's you seemed kind of mad at me."

"Heavens, lad," says Gold, resisting the urge to laugh, "The secretary vexed me, that's all."

"Oh!" says the boy, recognition dawning on his face. "Was it 'cos she smiled when you said you had a kitten?"

"Precisely."

Henry nods. "Right. Okay. Sorry. I'll see you later, Mr. Gold."

"Likewise, Henry." He gives the boy a mockingly formal salute before turning to hobble home, where Bast has surely been waiting at the door, mewling pathetically, ever since she's realized he's left. Gold feels a smile turn up the corners of his lips. Daft cat.


	9. In Which Bast Gets Vaccinated

Bast does not want to go to the vet. Gold takes her anyway.

It is one of the bigger mistakes he's made in his lifetime. Still, take her to the vet he does, despite all her wriggling as he's trying to stuff her into the cat carrier. Her mewls are something deafening as he's carrying her into the veterinarian's, but when he's finally called into the vet's office and Bast can finally be let out of her carrier, nothing happens.

Mr. Gold and the veterinarian exchange an awkward glance. Gold skitters his fingers along the table in order to lure Bast out. Again, nothing. Gold watches the veterinarian out of the corner of his eye, sees that she's trying to fight a smile. He takes pity on her and smiles himself, easing the tension a bit, and the vet laughs and says, "If you don't mind...?" She reaches for the carrier and Gold steps back. He is thoroughly unprepared for what the veterinarian does next.

She holds the carrier vertically and reaches inside to grab Bast by the scruff of her neck, and the best part is, Bast doesn't even protest.

The vet must sense his confusion, so she smiles again and says, "Kittens have a flap of skin at the back of their necks, so the mother can pick them up and carry around if need be. If you grab her in the right place, she'll go more or less limp."

"Oh." That will definitely come in handy.

"So, how old is she?" says the vet, scratching Bast under the chin and effectively calming the little beast down.

"I'm not quite sure," says Gold, "I've had her for about six weeks."

The woman nods. "That seems about right. You found her then, I assume?" Gold nods. She smiles and begins spewing some incoherent veterinarian babble, from which Gold can only gather "you need to bring her back in three or four weeks to get the rest of her shots," to which he nods again, and she continues with, "Will you be having her spayed?", to which Gold nods much more enthusiastically. As little as he dislikes having Bast in his home, a litter of kittens is the last thing Gold wants. The veterinarian smiles again (doesn't she ever get tired of that? - he had previously thought Regina was the only woman who smiled that much) and says he can go outside and schedule the next few appointments, if he likes, while she gives Bast her shots.

Gold inclines his head in assent, goes out into the lobby, schedules the next two appointments, and is called back inside to the vet's office some moments later to see the veterinarian, still smiling, holding up a cat carrier occupied by a very displeased Bast.

He holds back his smile as he takes the carrier from her. Only when he's in the car, Bast's carrier nestled comfortably in the passenger's seat, does he allow his grin to break out. He is altogether too pleased by the prospect of Bast getting jabbed with sharp needles. (What? It's not like the infernal creature hasn't grieved him as much before!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> another one coming up tonight folks!  
> i'm feeling generous


	10. In Which a Hummingbird is a Nuisance

He takes Bast to the vet some weeks later to get the rest of her shots, and after that it's only a matter of time until she gets spayed. Then, and only then, is she allowed outside. With Gold's supervision, of course. (And Henry's as well.)

Bast's exploration of Mr. Gold's backyard is surprisingly cautious, considering how she behaved the first time she got out of the house. Henry's behaviour is equally surprising. Gold has to resist the urge to laugh as he watches Henry trying to silently creep behind Bast, watching her every move and standing stock still when she turns around to give him the look she has reserved for when she thinks someone is being especially foolish. Henry doesn't seem to notice, too focused on remaining motionless.

The highlight of the day, however, is when Bast spots a hummingbird among the lupines. Gold tightens his fingers around his cane, and Henry slowly backs away from the kitten to stand beside him. They wait and watch.

Bast flattens herself against the ground, perfectly motionless except for the slow rotation of her ears and the twitch of her tail. Henry audibly holds his breath. Gold would smile, if he weren't so invested in what Bast's behaviour concerning the hummingbird.

Another twitch of the tail. The hummingbird flies around the lupine and delves its beak into the petals. Bast inches forward, slowly, slowly, extends her claws and retracts them, digging them into the soft soil of the flowerbed. Her whiskers twitch. Everything seems to be moving in slow motion. Gold doesn't think he's ever witnessed anything this dramatic in his garden before. Bast raises her haunches, flexes her shoulder blades, brings her limbs in closer to her body. She quivers for a moment and then oh! - she springs!

Her legs launch her off the ground and she soars through the air, paws outstretched, body elongated, though her belly still protrudes comically. The hummingbird is mere inches away, but the moment Bast's paws are about to close around it, the bird darts away faster than Gold can say "Belle" and Bast falls to the ground as anticlimactically as is humanly (or would it be felinely?) possible.

Henry lets out the breath he's been holding. "That was really close."

Gold shoots him a sideways glance, smirking. "You didn't expect her to catch it on her first try, now did you?"

Henry just arches his brow.


	11. In Which Bast Causes a Bit of Trouble

If Bast is put off of catching animals by her first failure in the garden, she certainly doesn't show it. The next few weeks are a plethora of instances in which Bast thinks it a very good idea to bring Mr. Gold as many dead mice and lizards as she can catch. (There is a blatant lack of hummingbirds among the menagerie of slain beasties she brings him, but he supposes that's to be expected. The little nuisances are devilishly fast, you know.)

At first the offerings confuse Gold. He consults Henry about the matter, and is assured that Bast's little presents are her way of contributing to the family food stores, as well as displaying her affection for Gold, a fact that makes him feel a little more warm and fuzzy inside than it should. The fuzzy feeling lasts for about a week, however, and then Bast brings home an animal that is not, strictly speaking, dead.

Of course, neither Bast nor Gold seem to be aware of that fact at first. It is only when Bast has carefully set down the enormous lizard on Gold's front hall carpet that it begins to wriggle. Gold snatches his hand away and Bast leaps backwards, bristling. The lizard, huge an old and ugly and mean looking, darts towards the door, but is stopped by Bast's paw. She looks ready to catch the beast, but it scuttles away faster than Gold could ever have thought a lizard could scuttle.

He snatches his cane up from where it has been leaning against the couch and hobbles after the lizard, thinking, I will not have that infernal creature in my house, and stops just in time to see the lizard clamber up the side of a table by the window and, wriggling something fearsome, make its way outside. It is stopped, however, by an unfortunately placed window pane. Gold winces as the lizard collides with the glass with a loud thud, almost convinced that the collision will have killed the creature once and for all, but Bast jumps up onto the table and chases the lizard down off of the table and back onto the floor. Gold lunges after the two, trying to stop them from breaking anything valuable in his house - that vase is an antique, godsdammnit!

Of course it is like this that Emma finds him, having come to drop off Henry, apparently now more-than-a-little okay with the idea of her son consorting with the likes of Mr. Gold, now that he's so softened up by the little kitten. Henry, of course, jumps to his aid, dropping his backpack by the front door and running with his arms outstretched to snatch Bast up from the floor. He misses, Bast is much too fast for him, and falls to the floor instead. Emma steps forward, ready to help her son, but Henry starts laughing instead and a smile breaks out on her face.

Gold is the only one who is not amused by this scenario.

"Having some trouble there, Gold?"

"Quite a lot more than I - ergh - expected when rescuing this infernal - get back here, you! - beast." He leans heavily against the wall to regain his breath, Henry still trying in vain to recapture Bast and the lizard, who have now inexplicably made their way up the bookcase.

Emma narrows her eyes. "You know," she says, smiling, "If you want some help, you could just ask."

Isn't it your job to help without being asked? he's tempted to ask, You are the saviour after all, but Emma still doesn't believe, not yet.

She continues, "You could call in that favour, clear the books."

He smiles wolfishly at her. "Oh no, Sheriff. You won't be getting out of that favour so easily."

Henry, oblivious to the entire conversation, lets out a strangled yell just then and collides headfirst with the door to Gold's study, into which Bast and the lizard have disappeared, somehow managing to have closed the door behind themselves.

Gold hears a crash and winces. "Well," he says, "I suppose a few broken ancient relics was to be expected when I took in Bast."

Henry looks sheepish. "Sorry."

"Oh, don't apologize, Henry, it's not your fault." Gold stands straight and starts hobbling to the study, but is stopped by Emma's hand. She smiles and arches her brow.

"Let me," she says, smirking, and at Gold's nod she opens the door a crack and slips inside, closing it behind her before the lizard or Bast can escape. There's a few brief moments in which God and Henry can hear the sounds of a scuffle, and then Emma emerges, holding the hideous reptile in one hand, clutching Bast by the scruff of her neck in her other.

"Piece of cake," she says, perhaps showing off to Henry, and winks at the boy before depositing the lizard safely outside and closing the door behind him before lightly setting Bast on the floor.

"Emma!" says Henry, the whoa! implied in his tone. "How'd you do that?"

She shrugs and tugs her jacket into place. "I'm good at dealing with things that try to run." She gives Gold a significant look. "Plus, one of my foster families used to foster cats as well as kids, so..." She lets the sentence trail off and shrugs again. "Well!" she says, smiling. "I guess since my work here is done, I'll be going. You still gonna stay, Henry?"

Henry furrows his brow. "Yeah?" Why wouldn't I? he seems to be asking.

Emma shrugs a third and final time and turns to the front door. "Nice seeing you, Gold," she deadpans, "Just call me if you want a ride home, Henry."

"Thanks Emma!"

Gold inclines his head. "Much obliged, Sheriff." He's beginning to think he now owes Emma a favor instead of the other way around. Drat.


	12. In Which Mary Margaret Finds Out

Sometimes Gold forgets just how much he hates Regina. Those are blissful moments, calm and reserved, and he doesn't realize just how much he's enjoyed them until Regina comes along again to fuck his life up again.

Does this woman never tire of her incessant meddling?

Today she's cornered him in his shop, the counter between them the only thing keeping him from reaching over and wrangling her pretty little neck. Speaking of pretty...

Gold tilts his head to the side, considering. As Regina babbles on and on and on about the curse, he thinks, She might be attractive, if not for the fact as though she always looks as though she's smelling something foul. He resists the urge to snort. She probably thinks it a becomingly wicked look on her.

"As interested as I am in your complaints with my fine work," he interrupts smoothly, holding up his palm to shut her up, "I've other matters to attend to, so if you'd kindly exit my shop..." He gestures to the door. Regina narrows her eyes and puts on the smile she thinks is so charming.

"Oh no," she says, "I'm not finished here. I need to know what I can do about Emma and all her incessant meddling - "

"Then I'm afraid you'll have to figure it out on your own, dearie," Gold shoots back, smiling widely. "I've work to do, and I'd appreciate it if you left me to do them." When she seems ready to argue again, he adds a swift, "Please," punctuated with another wolfish smile. Regina purses her too-plump lips and stares him down for a moment before she turns on her heel and starts towards the door. Just before stepping outside, she pauses and turns to Gold to say, "We're not finished here. I - "

"I expected as much," Gold says, and gods, it's getting fun to interrupt her, just look at her face, "Now out you get."

Regina scoffs and leaves, letting the door slam shut behind her. What a lady, Gold thinks wryly before grabbing his cane to hobble out from behind the counter. He waits a few moments to make sure Regina's gone before he goes to the back and opens the door there, only to have his legs attacked by a very dusty not-so-small kitten.

"How on Earth..." he mutters, examining the streaks of dust she's left behind on his pant leg. Gold walks into the back room to see where it was Bast accumulated so much dust on her previously orange fur. The trail of grime leads back to behind one of the bookshelves, where, upon pushing it some inches away from the wall, he finds a little bed Bast has made for herself with an assortment of now-dirty dishrags he'd lost several days ago, shortly after she began following him to work.

Gold quirks his lips into a half-smile and looks down at Bast. She blinks her blue eyes, which are now slowly turning green, up at him, as if to say, "Oh, yes, about that, I was going to tell you, you see, but as it seems you've found it out all on your own, well, I can do nothing but commend you on your excavational abilities." Gold nudges at her softly with the end of his cane. She leaps away rapidly and twitches her nose at the cane. When she crouches down to pounce, however, Gold laughs, says, "Oh, no you don't," and snatches it out of her reach before she can close her sharp little claws around it.

Speaking of her claws, however... Gold tilts his head to the side. He can't help but wonder if training Bast to attack Regina every time she comes into the shop is a good idea.

No, he realizes, it's not worth Regina finding out he has a kitten. He'd have to endure her oh-so "clever" teasing about it. Gold snorts, startling Bast into another jump.

The bell above the door to the shop rings, and Gold sighs and turns to hobble out of the storeroom, closing the door behind him just in case it's Regina again, although that's unlikely.

The woman who's just entered his shop, while not Regina, is a rather unexpected guest.

"Ms. Blanchard."

She smiles, a faint tint of pink coloring her cheeks. "Hello Mr. Gold."

He tilts his head to the side and gives her a half-smile. "What can I do for you, dearie?"

She lets the door fall shut behind her and steps forward. "Oh, gosh, it sounds so stupid now, but Henry told me you - you have a kitten?"

"Er," says Gold, but then has to remind himself that he's never at a loss for words, and continues, "Well, yes, yes I do. What does that have to do with your visit, if I may ask?"

Mary Margaret's blush deepens. "I feel so silly asking this, but I just love kittens," Gold finds himself unsurprised to hear it, "and, well, would you mind if I could play with her sometime, if not today?" She looks around the shop, as though trying to find Bast, and then she looks up again and explains, "Henry said she follows you to the shop sometimes."

"Indeed she does," says Gold, limping to the storeroom. "She's here right now, in fact," and he opens the door. Bast bounds out, startling Mary Margaret into a nervous laugh, and rubs her back against Gold's cane for a few moments before she notices there's a stranger in the room. Bast narrows her blue-green eyes and stalks closer to Mary Margaret, who slowly lowers herself into a crouch and holds out her hand for the kitten to sniff. Once Bast's inspection of the back of Mary Margaret's hand is through, she flops herself gracelessly onto her back and gives Mary Margaret an expectant look. "Well?" she seems to be saying, "Get to it, woman!"

Mary Margaret lets out a delighted laugh and eagerly begins to pet Bast's swollen belly. "She's certainly charismatic!" the woman laughs, seeming to forget whose presence she is in - Or, Gold wonders, perhaps she's not so afraid of me, now that I've got a kitten. He sighs. I suppose this means no one in town will be afraid of me once they catch wind of this. Drat.

It seems he's had cause for more drats in his life than ever, now that Bast's arrived.

Drat again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ya'lll get two tonight, since i haven't updated in so long!


	13. In Which Paige Wants a Teapot

After Mary Margaret's visit, Gold's shop becomes busier than ever. Unsurprisingly, the new clientele want nothing to do with the various paraphernalia Gold's shop has to offer. Some are polite enough to at least look around the shop before asking about Bast. Others... not so much.

"Where's the kitten?"

"I beg your pardon?" says Gold to the girl who has just barged into his shop most unceremoniously.

"The kitten," she replies, straightening herself and smoothing down the front of her coat. She pauses to catch her breath. Gold supposes she must have run straight from school to get to his shop, as it is around three o' clock. "Henry said you had a kitten."

"Ah." This girl is one of the few to have claimed the Mayor's son as their source of information concerning Bast, most of the others cite their source as Mary Margaret, or Archibald Hopper, or - on the rare occasion - Sheriff Swan. "She's not here right now."

The girl scrunches up her nose. "That's a shame. Where is she?"

"I have no idea," Gold replies. And really, he has no idea. Bast simply refuses to let her world consist only of Gold's home, Gold's shop, and the route taken between the two. He supposes she's explored every inch of town by now, and can't help but wonder - on those nights she fails to make it home - if she sleeps out in the street or somehow wriggles her way into a stranger's home. Almost everyone in town knows that the fearless little orange tabby belongs to Mr. Gold, and almost everyone in town is as enchanted by the beast as they are afraid of Gold.

"Oh."

"What's your name, dearie?" Gold plans on having a word with Henry later. It's all very well to have adults coming into his shop around the clock to see Bast, but when children come into the picture, things could get very awkward for Mr. Gold.

"Paige," she says, walking over to examine a tea set on the counter.

Ah yes. The hatter's daughter. Regina likes to gloat about this one. Quite a lot, actually. "Well, dearie, seeing as Bast is not here and the only reason for your visit, don't you think it's about time you got back home to your... erm... parents now?"

"Her name's Bast?" Paige asks, looking up from the tea set.

Talk about selective hearing. "Yes. After the Egyptian - "

"Cat goddess, yeah," she says with a smile, "That's so cool!"

"The name was Henry's idea."

Her smile widens. "Really? Awesome!"

Gold fails to find anything "awesome" about the situation at all, but children have always been a mystery to him, and that's not about to stop now, so he just gives her a grim smile and walks to the door. He starts to pull it open when Paige picks up the teapot and asks, "How much is this?"

Gold lets the door fall shut again. "That one?" He hobbles forward to inspect the teapot in question. "Thirty-five dollars."

"Oh." Paige sets it back down. "I've only got seven."

Gold smiles. "You had better start saving up, then, dearie."

Paige narrows her eyes at him and then glances back at the teapot. "Do you think... no, I - never mind."

"Go on, dearie."

"Do you think you could keep it for me? Until I save up enough money to buy it?"

"Oh, I can do more than that," says Gold, smiling down at her. "I'll keep it for you, aye," as if anyone else would even look at it, much less want to buy it, "and I'll even drop the price down to twenty-five, just for you.

"Really?" She smiles, but it quickly falls and she furrows her brow. "Why?" Clever child.

"The thing's been sitting here, collecting dust, for ages," Gold replies, holding up one of the matching teacups. "I'll be glad to be rid of it."

Paige beams and - in a most unexpected turn of events - wraps her arms around Gold's middle in what he assumes is supposed to be a - ahem - a hug. Well, this is certainly awkward. He pats her on the shoulder lightly for a few moments before she releases him and, with another bright smile and a cheerful, "Thanks a lot!", waves and exits the shop.

Gold looks over at the teapot. It's an ugly thing, all bright pinks and oranges, with a disturbing splash of greenish-yellow on the top, but he thinks he'll miss it once it's gone. It's one of the few splashes of color in his shop, barring Bast, when she sees it fit to actually be there, but he supposes it'll be better off in Paige's house than sitting in his shop, collecting dust for years to come.

Gold tilts his head to the side. Speaking of dust... He grabs a dishtowel from behind the counter and sets to work cleaning all the grime out of the teapot's little nooks and crannies. It wouldn't do for people to start thinking Gold's shop, and, consequently, the merchandise therein, is going to ruin. No indeed.


	14. In Which Paige Makes a Purchase

It's been a month. Paige and Henry stop by the shop almost every day now, whether Bast is there or not (she usually is). Gold has indulged and purchased a second "Kitty condo", larger and more elaborate than the last, to put in the shop, if only to keep Bast from shedding all over the antique furniture (it doesn't really work). It seems now that Regina is the only person in town who doesn't know about Bast, and Gold intends to keep it that way.

He soon finds out just how meaningless intent is.

"A cat?"

"Aye."

Regina blinks, staring down at the sinewy orange creature rubbing its back against her calf (the traitor), and laughs. "Oh, Gold, this is too precious."

"Yes, she is, isn't she? My precious little thing." He addresses these last words to Bast, who has now flopped herself gracelessly on the ground, exposing her belly in the hope that Regina will oblige and pet her.

Regina looks for a moment as though she's about to vomit. "How... charming."

Gold bares his teeth in a pleasant smile. "Hardly."

Regina opens her mouth to respond, but she's interrupted by the bell above the shop door ringing as Paige bursts into the shop, a fat wad of dollar bills clutched in her fist. She pauses, breathless, at the sight of Regina.

"Oh."

"Good afternoon."

"Um..." Her eyes dart between Regina and Gold. "Afternoon. I..." She glances down at her hand and again at Regina, a frown creasing the folds of her pretty little forehead. "I was just... um... looking."

"Ah," says Gold, and stretches his arms wide to gesture to the interior of the shop. "Feel free to peruse at your leisure."

Paige nods and, with yet another glance at Regina, turns to the tea set she's been saving up for this past month.

"Well," says Regina in an unusually chipper voice. "Nice chatting with you, Gold," and she sweeps out of his pawn shop. Paige waits a few moments after Regina's gone before rushing to the counter and smacking the bundle of cash in her palm down onto the countertop.

"I saved up. Twenty-five whole dollars," she exclaims, breathless.

"So you did." He motions for her to retrieve the teapot, and she does, and Gold sorts out the money to count. "Twenty-two, -three, -four, -five... -six? Twenty-six?"

"Oh!" Paige grins and swipes the last dollar bill out from under Gold's fingers. "That's for bus fare."

Gold frowns. "You've been taking the bus?"

"Mm-hmm."

He opens his mouth to protest this - because she is, after all, only ten years old - but Paige has pushed the teapot forward on the counter and raised her eyebrows at him expectantly. "Well?"

Gold smiles and, with painstakingly slow movements - he can almost see the frustration in Paige's eyes - places the money into the cash register. Paige grins again and reaches for the teapot, but he stops her by pulling it out of her reach.

Her mouth opens in protest, but Gold cuts in before she can speak.

"Would you like a bag?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> one chapter to go folks!


	15. In Which the Ending is a New Beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written before the finale aired so it is, of course, inaccurate and divergent from the canon.

When the curse breaks, Gold can't find Bast. He fails to notice her absence at first, what with Belle being alive and all, but it doesn't take long for him to realize that there is a blatant lack of orange feline rubbing herself against his leg.

Magic has come to Storybrooke, and all Gold - no, no, not Gold - all Rumpelstiltskin can say is, "Where's Bast?"

"I - I'm sorry, who?" Rumpelstiltskin turns to face Belle, who grants him a hesitant smile. She's unsure of herself, he realizes, in her hospital scrubs and borrowed coat, and that's not the Belle he remembers. What did Regina do to you?

"Bast," he replies, "She's a cat. My cat."

Belle arches her brow - and ah, there's the Belle he remembers - and smiles. "You have a cat?"

Rumpelstiltskin bares his teeth in a wicked smile. "Well, you were gone rather a long time."

"Oh," she replies, the corners of her lips turning up just enough to make him wonder if there's an unspoken question in that "oh". Belle presses herself against Rumpelstiltskin's side and sighs. "Well," she continues, "I'm sure we'll find her sooner or later."

And they do. It takes a while, but they find Bast. Belle and Rumpelstiltskin are on one of their many strolls down Main Street, enjoying the horrific clash between the Enchanted Forest and modern Storybrooke, when a streak of orange darts across the road and stops on the sidewalk before Rumpelstiltskin.

Bast blinks her blue-green eyes up at Belle and steps forward to sniff at her ankle for a moment before drawing back and turning her gaze upon Rumpelstiltskin once more. She opens her mouth as if to yawn, baring her sharp little white teeth, and says, "Ah. There you are."

Rumpelstiltskin would be lying if he said he didn't jump in surprise at the sound of his cat's voice. "Here I am," he responds, ignoring Belle's snicker off to the side, and takes a good long look at his cat, who is now stretching her body to stand up on her hind legs and place a paw on the thigh of Rumpelstiltskin's trousers.

She is much larger now, leaner, stronger. Rumpelstiltskin notices a small chunk taken out of her left ear and narrows his eyes, feeling a small surge of anger rush through him before it passes and he focuses on the now and not the who the fuck hurt my cat? His protectiveness over Bast, a creature who can clearly fend for herself (as evidenced by the many injuries inflicted upon poor Pongo), has long since ceased to surprise him.

"Where have you been?" he asks, kneeling before Bast despite the twinge of protest his knee sends up. Magic in Storybrooke has done wonders for his leg, but it seems Rumpelstiltskin will never truly be free of the pain unless he somehow manages to return to the Enchanted Forest and become the Dark One once again. Truth be told, he's more than a little relieved at just how much magic his spell brought to Storybrooke - that is to say, not enough to maintain his old, er... ailment. Now he can kiss Belle all he likes, without any fear of losing the small vestiges of magic he yet possesses. (Not that he's kissed Belle yet. These things do take time, after all, and she has been locked up for twenty-eight years. And besides all that, he's still a little bit nervous.)

"About."

"Don't be vague with me, missy."

Belle snorts.

"Helping," Bast replies.

Rumpelstiltskin sighs. "Helping whom?"

If cats could shrug, Rumpelstiltskin would not be surprised to find Bast doing so right now. "Oh, I don't quite know what his name used to be - Charles or Edmond or Neil or something - but now..." She winks one enormous cyan eye at him. "Well, now, he's a marquis."

Rumpelstiltskin frowns. "A marquis?"

Bast nods, her eyes glimmering. "The Marquis de Carabas!"

"And his name?" This from Belle, who has leaned forward in interest.

Bast yawns and waves a paw dismissively. "Oh, I can't remember, I just call him boy." She glances up at the sky and asks, "What's the time?"

"Near noon," Belle answers, and Bast nods her head in thanks.

"I'd best be going soon - Morraine and her father will be at the river in an hour."

Belle and Rumpelstiltskin share a look, and Rumpelstiltskin wonders why the name Morraine sounds so, so familiar. Belle is the first to speak. "Why are you going to the river?"

"I'm trying to get my boy married." My boy, she says, in the same way Rumpelstiltskin might say My cat.

"To Morraine?" Belle repeats, desperate for some light to be shed on this situation.

Why is that name so familiar?

"Yes."

Belle arches her brow and gives Rumpelstiltskin a small smile. "And, er, how exactly are you planning to go about that?"

Bast looks pleased to be asked about the mechanics of her plan. "Well, Morraine's family is rather wealthy, you see, after all this time in Storybrooke, so much so that they're practically royalty, and her father will only accept the best for his little girl," here Bast rolls her eyes, "which means husbands as well, and my boy wants to marry Morraine, so I've made my boy the Marquis de Carabas, and what I think I shall do - O' Malley suggested it, you see, he's very devious, that old tomcat - is send my boy into the river, hide his clothes," here Belle raises her eyebrows, "and run ahead and tell Morraine's father that - oh!, the poor Marquis de Carabas has had all his clothing stolen while bathing in the river, the poor lad, and would Mr. King mind terribly assisting my poor master? To which he would hopefully respond that yes, he would be delighted to assist the very wealthy Marquis de Carabas, and introduce him to his daughter, the most exquisite Morraine, and then they would get married and have lots and lots of babies and I'd never have to wear those god-awful boots again."

Rumpelstiltskin raises his eyebrows. "You wore boots?"

Bast narrows her eyes. "That's besides the point. I just need to find a castle - for the Marquis, of course - but the only one I know of is occupied by a shapeshifting ogre..."

"Shapeshifting, you say?" Belle asks. Bast nods. A wicked smile spreads across Belle's face. "Why don't you just have him turn into a mouse?" At the awestruck look on Rumpelstiltskin's face, Belle just shrugs and says, "What? I read it in a book once."

Bast makes an odd little noise unique to cats and says, "I'd really better be going, man - and woman, I suppose," she adds, giving Belle a queer, appraising sort of look, "but it was awful fun to see you again man, and thank you for taking care of me, and I suppose I shall see you around after I've got my boy settled."

Rumpelstiltskin nods and rises to his feet. "It's been ... good to see you too, dearie." He inclines his head in farewell, and Bast rubs her side against Belle's ankle before bounding off towards the forest. Some meters away she stops and turns back and calls, "Oh! I've just remembered my boy's name!"

"Oh?" says Belle.

"Yes, it's - oh, bugger, don't tell me I've forgotten it again - oh yes! Baelfire!" And she turns and runs off.

Rumpelstiltskin feels his heart stop, the breath catch in his throat. He turns slowly to face Belle, and realizes suddenly that she doesn't know - she's never known - how could she know? - Baelfire's name. "Bae," he whispers, and Belle turns to him with wide eyes.

"Bae? Y-yes, Bae, Baelfire. Bast's boy." The alliteration would be cracking him up by now, if he weren't so focused on Baelfire, Baelfire, Baelfire, Baelfire.

Rumpelstiltskin waits a moment to catch his breath, ignoring Belle's soft inquiries as to whether he's all right or not, and then grabs Belle firmly by the shoulders, pressing his mouth to hers far more aggressively than the situation warrants, and starts running after Bast. He's halfway down the block, the pain in his leg insignificant compared to the thought of Bae, Bae, Bae, Bae, when he hears Belle say, "I - wait - what - WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"

He grins at her over his shoulder but doesn't stop, can't stop, will never stop running. "I'M GOING TO FIND MY SON!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FUN FACT: This fic has actually been up on FF.net, complete the whole time! I'm a bad person. Here's the link: http://www.fanfiction.net/s/8068474/1/In-Which-Gold-Rescues-a-Kitten


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